*nf 


C 


!4uK 


H 


.r;-: •>  r.  ;■■  v  ^  v . ;'  t. 

Public  Worship 


and  Reverence 


BY 


tflw 
®ttfftl§§. 


THE  REV.  RICHARD  D.  HARLAN,  D.D., 


President  of  Lake  Forest  College. 


'  V'.r 


kim 


JG  .1  *>  1915  .  •  v: 


JKK‘?z  «T„ 

■ 

11 


r*fc  ‘UtN 


J 


; 


Sjc  •---, 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


9161  0  l  3fW 

PRESIDENT'S  OFFICE 

Public  Worship  and  Reverence. 


A  Sermon 

BY  PRESIDENT  HARLAN  OF  LAKE  FOREST  COLLEGE. 

The  Convocation  Sermon,  preached  in  the  Presbyterian  Church  of  Lake  Forest,  Ills., 
on  September  27, 1903,  before  the  students  of  Lake  Forest  College, 

Lake  Forest  School,  and  Ferry  Hall. 

I  am  to  speak  to  you  this  morning  upon  the  subject  of 
Public  Worship  and  Reverence;  by  which  I  mean  the  outward 
expressions  or  manifestations  of  reverence  in  the  public  services 
for  divine  worship. 

For  a  long  time  I  have  felt  that  the  campaign  of  education 
for  an  increase  in  reverence  must  begin  in  the  colleges  and  the 
schools,  especially  in  the  institutions  that  are  carried  on  under 
the  auspices  of  our  Holy  Religion. 

The  conditions  and  difficulties  surrounding  public  worship 
are  often  lost  sight  of  by  many  earnest  men,  who  sometimes 
almost  seem  to  assume  that  every  one  present  at  a  public  service 
has  come  up  to  the  House  of  God  impelled  by  a  strong  desire  to 
worship,  needing,  therefore,  no  special  helps  to  predispose  the 
heart  to  prayer  or  recall  the  wandering  thoughts.  The  condi¬ 
tions  of  private  prayer  are  entirely  different.  There,  the  in¬ 
dividual  Christian,  in  the  quiet  of  the  home,  shuts  the  door  and 
holds  communion  with  his  Father  which  is  in  secret;  or,  in  the 
solitude  which  enwraps  each  soul  even  amid  the  hurrying  throngs 
of  the  street  or  the  busy  shop  or  the  crowded  drawing  room,  he 
may  lay  hold  of  the  love  and  grace  of  the  Eternal  with  the  quick 
grip  of  short  ejaculatory  prayer.  In  such  experiences  and  emer¬ 
gencies  the  really  earnest  soul  needs  no  forms  nor  help  of  out¬ 
ward  ceremony  or  environment,  but  goes  to  the  mark  with  the 
directness  and  swiftness  of  an  arrow  hot  from  the  bow  string. 
And  yet,  taking  the  average  man  as  our  standard,  the  springs  of 
private  prayer  would  soon  dry  up  in  the  hot  desert  of  the  world’s 
temptations  and  distractions,  were  it  not  for  public  worship. 

With  this  much  by  way  of  preface,  let  us  now  read  certain 
scattered  passages  from  Holy  Scripture,  which  from  various 


2 


angles  illuminate  the  whole  question  of  Public  Worship  and 
Reverence. 

“For  now  have  I  chosen  and  sanctified  this  house ,  that  My 
Name  may  be  there  forever:  and  Mine  eyes  and  Mine  heart  shall 
be  there  perpetually  ” — II  Chron.  7:16. 

“Mine  house  shall  be  called  a  house  of  prayer  for  all  people  ” 
—Is.  56 :7. 

“Oj  come,  let  us  worship  and  bow  down ;  let  us  kneel  before 
the  Lord  our  Maker” — Ps.  95  :6. 

Hear  also  the  words  of  Jesus,  spoken  to  the  woman  of 
Samaria : 

“Jesus  saith  unto  her,  Woman,  believe  Me,  the  hour  cometh, 
when  ye  shall  neither  in  this  mountain,  nor  yet  at  Jerusalem . 
worship  the  Father  ....  But  the  hour  cometh,  and  now  is, 
when  the  true  worshippers  shall  worship  the  Father  in  spirit  and 
in  truth :  for  the  Father  seeketh  such  to  worship  Him.  God  is  a 
Spirit:  and  they  that  worship  Him  must  worship  Him  in  spirit 
and  in  truth” — St.  John  4:21,  23,  24. 

Also  the  Apostle  Paul  says  in  his  sermon  on  Mars  Hill : 

“God  that  made  the  world  and  all  things  therein,  seeing  that 
He  is  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  dwelleth  not  in  temples  made 
with  hands” — Acts  17  :24. 

And  finally,  there  is  that  promise  of  Christ’s  perpetual  pres¬ 
ence  with  His  worshipping  people,  whether  they  gather  amid  the 
outward  solemnities  of  a  great  cathedral  or  in  the  baldest  meet¬ 
ing  house  or  on  barren  moors,  and  whether  or  no  they  have  a 
minister  or  priest  to  lead  their  devotions : 

“For  where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together  in  My  Name, 
there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them” — Matt.  18 :20. 

A  superficial,  one-sided  use  is  often  made  of  our  Lord’s 
far-reaching  deliverance  to  the  woman  of  Samaria,  which  we 
have  just  read,  in  which  He  asserts  the  immediate  accessibil¬ 
ity  of  the  Father  of  spirits  to  every  comer  of  the  earth,  and  de¬ 
mands  an  inner  homage  of  the  soul  as  the  test  of  all  true  wor¬ 
ship.  In  that  spiritual  and  revolutionary  proclamation,  Jesus 
certainly  teaches  that  true  worship  was  henceforth  to  be  con¬ 
fined  neither  to  the  Samaritans’  “Holy  Mountain,”  nor  yet  to 
Jerusalem,  but  that  everywhere  and  at  all  times,  without  the 
medium  of  either  Church,  Priest  or  Ritual,  the  truly  devout  soul 
might  find  its  God.  But,  like  all  radical  reformers,  Jesus  often 


3 


taught  by  paradox,  by  overstatement;  and  surely  He  does  not 
here  assert,  as  is  often  assumed,  that  the  “Holy  Mountain”  was 
to  be  of  no  further  value  to  the  Samaritan  nor  the  great  Temple 
to  the  devout  Israelite.  Much  less  would  the  Son  of  Man,  who 
knows  human  infirmities,  have  His  followers  infer  that  the  out¬ 
ward  services  and  ceremonies  of  the  Church  should  be  of  insig¬ 
nificant  importance  to  the  New  Testament  Christian. 

The  essence  of  His  doctrine  is  that  all  places  of  worship  and 
all  ceremonies  are  spiritually  worthless  except  as  they  are  filled 
and  made  alive  by  the  informing  spirit  of  worship.  The  value 
to  us  of  a  place  of  worship,  and  even  of  that  highest  act  of  wor¬ 
ship  which  may  be  offered  in  the  Holy  Communion,  is  abso¬ 
lutely  dependent  upon  there  being  a  genuine  worshipper,  wor¬ 
shipping  in  spirit  and  in  truth.  To  hold  to  an  inherent,  essen¬ 
tial  sacredness  in  such  outward  matters  would  make  Christianity 
a  system  of  magic  instead  of  a  life  of  faith  and  love  and  obedi¬ 
ence. 

But  a  rational,  philosophic  way  of  stating  the  Protestant  doc¬ 
trine  of  the  sacredness  of  God’s  House,  and  even  of  the  Holy  Sup¬ 
per,  is  that  both  sacred  place  and  sacred  ceremony  are  very  much 
like  a  locked  treasure-house — whose  key  is  given  only  to  the  gen¬ 
uine,  spiritual  worshipper.  And  yet,  after  all  is  said  by  way  of 
caution  against  a  superstitious  regard  for  these  externals,  we  do 
have  a  promise  from  Christ  Himself  which  justifies  us  in  assert¬ 
ing  that  a  Christian  sanctuary,  where  Christ’s  people  are  wont  to 
worship,  is,  in  a  true,  safe  and  helpful  sense,  made  sacred 
by  a  special  Presence  and  nearness,  and  most  of  all  during 
the  times  of  public  worship.  By  which  I  do  not  mean  that  a 
church  edifice  is  objectively,  actually  sacred,  but  that  it  is  sub¬ 
jectively,  practically  so.  In  other  words,  it  is  not  sacred  in 
itself,  but  sacred  to  us  and  for  us;  because,  said  the  Master, 
“Where  two  or  three  are  met  together  in  My  Name,  there  am  I 
in  the  midst  of  them.”  True,  that  meeting  may  be  in  a  bare 
bam,  or  out  upon  the  wild  heather,  where  God  so  often  met  our 
brave  Scotch  ecclesiastical  forefathers;  but  surely  this  gracious 
guarantee  of  Christ’s  Presence  amid  His  worshipping  people  is 
not  abated  just  because  such  places  of  Christian  assemblage  hap¬ 
pen  to  be  the  regular  houses  of  worship  ! 

In  all  these  matters  of  the  outward  aspects  of  worship,  the 
extreme  type  of  Puritan  is  just  as  far  wrong  as  the  Ritualist ;  in- 


4 


deed,  in  their  underlying  essential  principle,  the  two  are  really 
the  same,  though  the  Puritan  is  delightfully  unconscious  of  it 
and  would  deny  the  charge  with  horror.  To  the  mariner’s  eye, 
Scylla  and  Charybdis  seem  to  be  opposite  dangers,  and  so  they 
are  in  a  superficial  sense;  but  underneath  the  waters  they  are 
really  one  and  the  same  rock,  although  the  two  ends  raise  their 
frowning  heads  above  the  water  on  opposite  sides  of  the  strait. 
Just  so,  in  regard  to  what  I  have  called  the  visible  aspects  of 
public  worship,  these  two  extremes  of  ecclesiastical  physiognomy 
or  outward  feature,  as  they  are  seen  in  the  extreme  phase  of  Pur¬ 
itanism  and  in  Ritualism,  are  actually  the  same  in  their  underly¬ 
ing  essential  principle,  in  that  they  both  make  a  fetich  of  things 
external,  one  in  a  positive  and  one  in  a  negative  way.  Your  ex¬ 
treme  type  of  Puritan  does  so  by  insisting  upon  what  he  calls  a 
lack  of  “form” — and  he  always  uses  the  word  “form”  in  an  op¬ 
probrious  sense.  And  yet,  so  far  from  lacking  form,  he  is  uncon¬ 
sciously  the  most  rigid  of  formalists ;  only,  his  form  is  bare  and 
unexpressive,  lacking  in  completeness,  congruity  and  impressive¬ 
ness. 

The  fact  is  that,  on  this  question  of  the  method  of  public 
worship,  the  extreme  Puritan  and  the  Ritualist  are  equally 
wrong,  and  in  the  reaction  from  one  side  to  the  other,  we 
see  the  revenge  which  wronged  nature  sometimes  takes  in  such 
cases,  and  we  stumble  here  on  the  explanation  of  the  otherwise 
strange  phenomenon  presented  every  now  and  then  in  the  case 
of  an  extreme  Puritan,  or  more  often  his  children  or  grand¬ 
children  who,  when  they  veer  from  their  own  Charybdis,  make 
straight  for  the  rocks  of  Scylla,  by  becoming  the  most  ardent  of 
Ritualists.  Occasionally  we  get  the  opposition  reaction.  If, 
in  the  latter  case,  you  starve  the  intellectual  side  of  human 
nature  and  over-indulge  the  sensuous  and  aesthetic  side,  then 
occasionally  you  get,  at  the  other  swing  of  the  pendulum, 
a  bald,  bare  type  of  Puritanism,  which  is  fitted  only  for  the 
rare  upper  moments  of  the  soul,  when  the  rational  spirit  of 
man  is  able  to  rise  superior  to  the  most  depressing  surround¬ 
ings  and  envelope  itself  with  its  own  atmosphere.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  you  shut  your  eyes  to  the  existence  of  the  imag¬ 
ination  and  the  aesthetic,  emotional  sides  of  our  complex, 
God-given  nature,  and  make  your  appeal  simply  to  the  rational 
and  purely  spiritual  elements  in  man’s  nature,  and  proceed 
therefore  to  strip  the  church  bare  of  all  elements  of  beauty  and 


5 


congruity  in  architecture  and  churchly  art;  if  you  banish  music 
and  ignore  all  questions  of  outward  seemliness  and  expressive¬ 
ness,  then,  in  the  second  or  third  generation  of  a  Puritan  line, 
there  often  comes  that  extreme  reaction  towards  an  out-and-out 
Ritualism,  in  which,  as  it  seems  to  us,  worship  becomes  too  sen¬ 
suous,  appealing  too  little  to  the  intellectual  and  purely  spiritual 
sides  of  man’s  nature,  and  too  much  to  the  eye  and  ear.  Ritual¬ 
ism,  in  its  full  flower,  is  too  much  like  a  book  that  is  almost  all 
picture  and  too  little  reading  matter.  We  give  picture  books  to 
children,  but  grown  men  and  women  as  a  rule  demand  strong 
meat. 

And  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  candor  compels  the  admission 
that  your  extreme  type  of  Puritan  is  just  as  far  wrong  on  his 
side,  for  in  this  matter  of  the  methods  of  worship  he  seems  to  ex¬ 
pect  the  regenerate  man  to  be  all  angel  or  spirit,  in  whom  the  five 
senses  play  no  part.  He  forgets  that,  just  as  man  has  a  body  as 
well  as  soul,  so  religion  must  have  some  forms  in  which  that 
spirit  may  fitly  clothe  itself,  and  must  clothe  itself,  if  it  is  to  live 
in  the  world  and  spread. 

As  usual  in  such  cases  the  truth  lies  in  the  middle,  in  the 
golden  means  between  the  two  extremes.  Though  what  some 
men  call  “no  form”  is  but  another  kind  of  form,  yet,  using  the 
word  as  some  insist  upon  using  it,  neither  “lack  of  form”  nor 
“form”  are  anything  in  themselves.  Paul’s  argument  in  the 
Galatians  is  usually  taken  to  be  directed  only  against  Jewish 
Ritualism :  and  yet  his  deeply  cutting  principle,  so  clearly  enun¬ 
ciated  in  the  fifth  chapter,  hits  at  both  extremes:  “In  Jesus 
Christ  neither  circumcision  availeth  anything,  nor  wncircum- 
cision;  but  faith  which  worketh  by  love.”  Many  men  are  apt  to 
forget  the  two  words,  “nor  uncircumcision,”  and  so  overlook  the 
great  principle  they  embody.  As  there  was  no  help  in  mere  cir¬ 
cumcision,  so  there  was  no  essential  value  in  being  uncircum¬ 
cised.  And  yet,  in  their  opposition  to  anything  like  a  compre¬ 
hensive  orderliness  and  stately  decency  of  public  worship,  some 
men  insist  upon  what  they  call  a  more  “spiritual”  worship,  and 
they  often  over-emphasize  the  last  word  in  the  Psalmist’s  exhor¬ 
tation,  “0,  worship  the  Lord  in  the  beauty  of  holiness,”  as  if  that 
ruled  out  every  element  of  outward  beauty,  congruity  and  impres¬ 
siveness  from  public  worship.  To  make  the  quotation  serve  the 
purpose  for  which  it  is  often  misused,  we  might  somewhat  amend 


6 


it  and  make  it  read :  “0  worship  the  Lord  in  the  holiness  of  ugli¬ 
ness.”  And  really  such  a  parody  does  not  entirely  misrepresent 
a  school  that  still  lingers  in  some  parts  of  the  American  Church. 
We  all  know  men  who  seem  to  think  that  somehow  a  bald,  bare 
outline  of  worship  is  the  more  “spiritual”  form. 

Now  the  fundamental  principle  I  have  endeavored  to  enun¬ 
ciate  this  morning  is  this :  while  mere  form,  or  the  absence  of  a 
particular  form,  has  no  value  in  itself, — the  external  being  sim¬ 
ply  the  outward  expression  of  the  inward  reality,  occupying  the 
same  relation  thereto  as  that  of  the  body  to  the  soul, — yet,  none 
the  less,  there  is  a  natural,  fitting  relation  between  the  inner  fact 
and  the  outward  expression  or  form  of  it.  In  every  department 
of  life,  “form,”  rightly  conceived,  is  simply  the  natural,  fitting, 
outward  drapery  of  the  ideal,  or  of  the  real  inner  thought. 

Such,  as  it  seems  to  me,  is  the  true  philosophy  of  the  close 
and  almost  necessary  relation  between  a  spiritual  inner  worship 
and  its  outward  expression  in  any  method  of  public  worship, 
whose  purpose  it  is  to  lift  the  hearts  of  all  sorts  and  conditions 
of  men  toward  the  Unseen  God. 

And  now  let  us  make  some  practical  applications  of  these 
principles  to  the  question  of  Beverence,  or  rather  the  notorious 
irreverence  shown  in  the  public  services  of  many  churches  in 
America.  Even  at  the  risk  of  appearing  to  descend  to  trifling 
details,  I  venture  this  morning  to  unburden  myself  of  certain 
convictions  as  to  this  practical  subject,  which  for  many  years 
have  been  gathering  in  intensity.  And  if  I  seem  to  descend  too 
far  to  mere  details,  may  I  ask  you  to  remember,  not  only  that 
habits  of  outward  reverence  are  valuable  as  bulwarks  of  a  gen¬ 
uine  inner  reverence  in  the  case  of  the  decidedly  thoughtful,  but 
also  that  in  our  churches  we  have  to  deal  with  a  mass  of  un¬ 
thinking  people,  with  those  who  come  up  to  the  church  on  the 
Lord’s  Day  filled  with  the  thoughts  of  the  world  and  of  the  week ; 
and  more  especially  that  the  Church  as  a  wise  mother  should  be 
a  teacher  for  the  young,  who  are  at  once  so  thoughtless  and  yet  so 
impressionable.  Life  is  made  up  of  details,  and  irreverance  in 
church  has  become  a  part  of  the  unconscious  habits  of  the  aver¬ 
age  American.  We  ministers,  upon  whom  is  laid  the  burden  and 
the  unspeakable  privilege  of  leading  the  public  devotions  to  the 
people  of  God,  cannot  hope  to  do  anything  toward  bringing  about 
a  more  excellent  way,  and  particularly  in  moulding  the  habits 


7 


of  the  younger  generation  of  church-goers,  unless  we  are  willing 
to  come  down  out  of  the  cloudland  of  general  principles  and 
descend  to  details.  Heads  of  families,  and  particularly  teachers , 
dealing  with  young  and  impressionable  people ,  have  the  whole 
thing  in  their  own  hands,  especially  if  they  will  remember  the 
power  of  a  visible  example . 

We  Americans  are  so  morbidly  afraid  of  being  “formal”  that 
we  often  end  by  being  unceremonious  and  bad-mannered.  Irre¬ 
verence  is  a  national  trait.  It  is  in  the  air  of  the  age,  the  atmos¬ 
phere  of  this  young  land  of  ours.  And  nowhere  does  it  show 
itself  so  distressingly  as  in  the  assemblages  for  the  public  wor¬ 
ship  of  God. 

The  pictures  I  would  draw  this  morning  showing  the  de¬ 
meanor  of  many  worshippers  in  our  Churches  are  not  actual,  sin¬ 
gle  photographs,  but  composite  ones,  made  up  from  nega¬ 
tives  taken  in  many  churches  and  many  places.  Taking  our 
churches  as  a  whole  through  the  country,  what  are  the  impres¬ 
sions  of  the  average  service  which  come  up  to  the  memory  when 
we  think  of  this  subject? 

I  venture  to  exhibit  three  series  of  photographs : 

I.  The  first  series  has  been  taken  during  the  moments  pre¬ 
ceding  the  actual  beginning  of  divine  service. 

Suppose  that,  as  students  of  this  matter  of  Reverence  in 
church,  we  “go  up  to  the  house  of  the  Lord.”  As  our  “feet  stand 
within  its  gates,”  what  pictures  could  we  gather  as  to  the  way 
in  which  the  various  worshippers  enter  the  Lord’s  earthly 
courts?  In  the  average  church  in  America  it  is  well  nigh 
impossible  to  secure  a  quiet  quarter  of  an  hour  of  medita¬ 
tion  before  the  service  begins.  How  does  the  average  Ameri¬ 
can  church-goer  enter  the  House  of  God  at  the  service  on 
the  Lord’s  Day  ?  He  noisily  greets  his  acquaintances  here 
and  there  near  the  door,  or  stops  to  talk  with  audible  voice 
upon  any  topic  at  hand,  thereby  breaking  the  sweet  and  solemn 
stillness  which  should  characterize  a  church  at  all  times,  espe¬ 
cially  as  the  hour  of  public  service  draws  near. 

Your  average  attendant  upon  public  worship,  having  finished 
his  noisy  greetings,  next  drops  carelessly  into  a  pew  with  as 
much  apparent  indifference  to  the  sacred  purposes  of  the  church, 
and  the  solemn  character  of  the  service  about  to  begin,  as  if  it 
were  a  public  hall,  and  he  were  come  to  listen  to  a  lecture  or  a 


8 


concert  He  has  not  yet  adopted  for  himself  that  reverent,  and 
helpful  habit  of  bowing  the  head  for  a  few  moments  in  silent 
prayer,  as  soon  as  he  takes  his  seat,  in  which  he  asks  to  be  filled 
with  the  spirit  of  worship,  by  what  the  old  theologians  called  the 
prevenient  grace  of  God  (the  grace  that  comes  before), — that 
beautiful  advance  guard  of  grace  which  God  yearns  to  send  into 
our  hearts,  to  enlarge  them  and  to  prepare  them  to  come  with 
large  petitions  when  we  gather  around  the  mercy  seat. 

Then,  if  any  time  remains  before  the  service  begins,  the 
average  church  attendant  is  apt  to  spend  it  in  looking  around  to 
see  who  else  is  coming  in,  or  he  converses  in  loud  whispers  with 
some  one  in  the  next  pew.  Indeed,  he  will  often  punctuate  the 
sermon  and  the  whole  service  in  the  same  manner,  disturbing 
those  around  him,  and  attracting  to  himself  the  attention  which 
his  neighbors  would  like  to  give,  or  should  be  allowed  to  give,  to 
the  service. 

II.  The  second  series  of  photographs  represents  the  average 
attendant  at  our  Churches  as  he  behaves  during  the  prayers  in 
the  public  services. 

Just  observe  the  demeanor  of  the  average  attendant  at 
our  churches  at  the  moment  when  prayer  is  being  offered.  By 
his  attitude  he  seems  to  count  himself  a  spectator,  a  looker-on 
from  the  outside.  He  takes  the  passive  attitude,  waiting  to  be 
interested  or  entertained,  instead  of  being  an  active,  hearty  par¬ 
ticipant  in  the  common  worship.  He  and  those  who  are  like  him 
make  up  an  audience ,  but  not  a  worshipping  church.  He  sits 
bolt  upright  during  the  devotions,  thereby  making  it  almost  im¬ 
possible  for  the  person  immediately  behind  him  with  any  com¬ 
fort  to  bow  the  head  or  kneel  in  prayer, — a  thing  of  which  our 
man  in  front  seems  selfishly  unconscious.  And  if  the  second 
worshipper,  the  one  in  the  pew  behind,  finds  that  any  rational 
reverential  obeisance  of  the  body  is  thus  made  physically  uncom¬ 
fortable,  he  often  gives  it  up ;  consequently  the  person  in  the  pew 
behind  the  second  man  is  either  tempted  or  forced  to  forego  any 
of  the  natural  ways  of  visibly  expressing  one’s  reverence ;  and  so 
it  repeats  itself,  in  many  straight  lines  from  the  front  of  the 
church  to  the  last  pew,  altogether  making  a  sight  from  the  rear 
of  the  church  which  is  shocking  to  every  thoughtful  observer,  and 
which  must  make  a  very  bad  impression  on  the  thoughtless  and 
skeptical  attendant  as  to  the  serious  sincerity  of  religious  people. 

How,  of  course,  the  method  of  the  mere  bodily  expression  of 


9 


the  inner  obeisance  of  the  soul  is  not  a  matter  of  essential  im¬ 
portance.  If  a  man  is  really  thoughtful,  it  can  make  no  differ¬ 
ence  whether  he  reverently  stand  in  the  presence  of  the  King 
of  kings  or  kneel  before  the  Lord  his  Maker,  or  whether, 
with  quite  an  equal  reverence,  he  bend  with  lowered  head  before 
Him.  God  looks  not  at  the  angle  of  the  body,  but  at  the  attitude 
of  the  soul.  The  only  thing  worth  emphasizing  in  this  respect 
is  that,  while  everyone  should  feel  perfectly  free  to  do  what  best 
helps  his  own  soul  to  shut  out  the  outer  world  and  to  worship 
God  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  he  should,  for  his  own  help  and  for 
his  brethren’s  and  companions’  sake,  outwardly  express  in  some 
way,  by  some  visible  counterpart  of  inner  reverence,  the  adoring 
homage  of  the  soul. 

•But,  entirely  aside  from  the  three  ordinary  postures  for  pub¬ 
lic  prayer  just  mentioned — and  they  are  all  thoroughly  reverent 
— there  is  one  other  habit  in  this  regard  which,  as  leaders  of  the 
prayers  of  the  people,  we  ministers  might  well  endeavor  in  tact¬ 
ful  ways  to  banish  forever  from  our  churches,  because  of  its  de¬ 
moralizing  effect  upon  the  young.  I  refer  to  the  very  common 
and  irreverent  atttitude  for  public  prayer,  seen  in  those  atten¬ 
dants  upon  church  services  who  neither  st^nd  in  prayer  nor 
kneel  nor  bow  the  body,  but  who  sit  bolt-upright,  with  no  out¬ 
ward  sign  to  others  nor  reminder  to  themselves,  that  they  have 
just  been  exhorted  to  approach  the  footstool  of  the  Majestv  on 
High. 

Sometimes  your  average  worshipper  shades  his  face  with  his 
hand  or  a  book  while  the  prayers  are  being  said;  but  quite  as 
often  he  goes  to  the  extreme  of  shamelessly  opening  his  eyes 
either  to  watch  the  minister’s  face  as  he  prays,  or  to  stare  with 
idle  curiosity  about  the  congregation,  as  if  what  were  going  on 
around  him  were  something  in  which  he  had  not  the  slightest 
part ! 

I  have  attended  the  Chapel  Exercises  of  not  a  few  colleges 
and  schools  taught  by  Christian  men,  and,  in  the  interests  of  the 
investigations  I  have  been  making  into  this  matter  of  Public 
Worship  and  Reverence,  I  have  violated  my  own  rule  and  have 
sometimes  watched  these  academic  congregations  during  prayers. 

At  the  words,  “let  us  pray,”  I  have  often  been  horrified  to 
see  practically  the  entire  college  or  school  remain  stock-still, 
hardly  even  going  to  the  trouble  of  bending  the  head,  much  less 
the  body;  and,  what  was  more  shocking,  even  the  teachers  them - 


10 


selves  remained  sitting  bolt-upright ,  as  if  nothing  were  going  on 
in  which  they  had  the  slightest  part! 

Now,  if  the  teachers  are  so  careless  as  to  the  fitting  outward 
expressions  of  inner  worship,  how  can  they  expect  the  young 
men  and  young  women,  or  the  boys  and  girls,  around  them,  to 
acquire  those  reverential  manners  which  are  not  only  the  natural 
expressions  of  inward  prayer,  but  which  often  help  to  deepen  de¬ 
votional  feeling.  Indeed,  reverential  outward  habits  sometimes 
seem  to  summon  those  feelings  into  existence,  by  becoming  what 
the  logicians  call  the  “occasional  cause”  of  such  feelings.  My 
friend,  does  not  thine  own  experience  bear  out  this  last  state¬ 
ment?  Even  when,  for  the  moment,  it  was  done  only  out  of  a 
good-mannered  deference  to  a  most  decent  custom,  and  as  a 
proper  example  to  others  around  thee,  is  it  not  true  that  the  rev¬ 
erent  bending  of  the  body  in  public  worship  has  sometimes  actu¬ 
ally  recalled  thine  own  wandering  mind  to  the  duty  and  privilege 
of  really  praying,  praying  within  thine  own  soul  and  for  thy  self  ? 

I  have  spoken  of  the  power  of  example.  Do  I  hear  the  re¬ 
tort  in  some  minds  this  morning,  that  we  ought  not  to  pray 
“to  be  seen  of  men?”  Not  so  fast,  my  friend;  surely,  that  word 
of  the  Master’s  does  not  mean  that  when  you  pray  in  the  public 
assemblages  in  God’s  House  you  are  so  to  demean  yourself  that 
as  men  look  at  you  they  will  conclude  that  you  are  not  praying. 

My  dear  teacher,  that  lad  a  few  seats  behind  you  does  not 
know  that  you  have  closed  your  eyes  during  the  prayer,  or  that,, 
in  your  willingness  to  give  expression  to  the  homage  of  your  soul, 
you  have  actually  dropped  your  chin  on  your  breast  or  have  even 
gone  so  far  as  to  shade  your  face  with  your  hand  or  a  book.  Oh  t 
why  are  we  Americans  so  morbidly  afraid  of  appearing  to  be  too 
pious  or  formal  that  we  lean  over  backward  in  this  matter  of  the 
outward  ceremonial  of  prayer,  by  indulging  in  such  half-way, 
lazy  methods  as  the  ones  just  mentioned  ? 

Of  one  thing  I  am  certain :  no  well-regulated  wholesome  boy, 
if  he  sits  bolt-upright  for  prayer,  will  simply  shut  his  eyes, 
nor  will  he  put  on  mannish  airs  by  shading  his  face ;  such  habits 
would  make  him  feel  foolish  and  shame-faced.  But,  if  he  is 
properly  taught  and  has  a  correct  example  set  him  by  his  teach¬ 
ers,  he  will  gladly  and  naturally  bow  the  whole  body  (or  kneel ),. 
and  so  shut  out  the  world  of  sense  as  he  tries  to  join  in  the  pray¬ 
ers.  But,  if  he  sees  his  teachers  sitting  bolt-upright  in  prayer, — 
even  if  a  closer  inspection  would  have  revealed  the  fact  that  their 


11 


eyes  were  decently  closed, — the  average  boy  will  do  likewise  and 
will  sit  bolt-upright,  only  he  will  keep  his  eyes  staring  open,  or 
they  will  wander  aimlessly  around  the  room,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  the  congregation  has  just  been  bidden  to  pray  to  the  unseen 
but  loving  Lord  God  our  Father !  What  a  spectacle  ! 

When  will  our  Christian  teachers  realize  the  value  and  power 
of  reverential  habits,  as  safeguards  and  quickeners  of  inward  de¬ 
votion,  and  sometimes  almost  as  creators  of  those  feelings? 
Example  is  most  contagious,  and  the  wise  teacher,  not  only  by 
precept  but  by  example,  will  leave  nothing  undone  in  his  efforts 
to  form  in  those  committed  to  his  care  the  much  needed  habit  of 
Reverence  in  Public  Worship. 

In  the  earliest  days  of  Scotch  Presbyterianism,  when  kneel¬ 
ing  in  public  prayer  was  the  rule,  our  ecclesiastical  ancestors 
coined  a  rather  rough  word,  which,  to  be  sure,  they  applied  to 
any  and  all  methods  of  sitting  at  prayer,  even  when  both  the  head 
and  body  were  reverently  bowed,  but  which  we  may  fairly  apply 
to  that  vicious,  wide-spread  American  habit  of  sitting  bolt-up¬ 
right,  with  open  eyes  or  with  very  little  sign  that  prayer  is  being 
offered,  and  we  may  call  such  an  attitude  “hunkering  at  prayer.” 
It  is  an  uncouth  word,  but  not  so  uncouth  as  that  boorishly 
irreverent  and  indifferent  attitude  which  so  many  men  and 
women  in  Christian  congregations  (often  thoughtlessly)  allow 
themselves  to  occupy  when  they  are  bidden  to — pray ! 

III.  Let  us  now  look  at  the  third  series  of  snap-shot  photo¬ 
graphs,  those  representing  the  confusion  which  marks  the  close 
of  many  of  our  public  services. 

What  picture  comes  to  your  mind  as  you  think  of  the  close 
of  our  average  Church  service?  During  the  last  hymn  you  may 
see  scores  of  people  putting  on  their  overcoats  and  rubber  shoes, 
reaching  for  their  umbrellas  and  hats,  as  if  to  be  ready  for  an 
even  start  at  the  close  of  the  benediction,  which  immediately  fol¬ 
lows.  At  times,  even  in  the  most  conservative  churches,  this 
moment  in  the  service  is  strongly  suggestive  of  a  go-as-you- 
please  race,  the  signal  for  starting  which  might  almost  be, 
“Amen !  Go!”  The  benediction, — whose  words,  “The  grace  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  love  of  God  the  Father,  and  the  fel¬ 
lowship  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  be  with  you  all,  now  and  for  ever¬ 
more,”  are  so  freighted  with  blessing, — is  hardly  finished,  before 
the  aisles  and  even  the  doors  of  exit  are  full  of  hurrying  people.. 


12 


The  Psalmist  urges  that  all  the  people  say,  “Amen”*  But  at 
the  close  of  the  average  service  the  people  barely  wait  for  the 
minister  to  say,  “Amen,”  much  less  do  the)'  stop  to  say  it,  even 
silently  to  themselves,  with  the  conscious  prayer  that  grace, 
mercy,  and  peace  may  find  a  lodgment  in  their  own  hearts.  The 
“Amen”  of  the  benediction  seems  almost  like  a  percussion  cap 
to  a  charge  in  a  gun  barrel :  it  touches  off  an  impatiently  waiting 
congregation,  sometimes  sending  them  into  the  aisles  in  almost  a 
stampede  for  the  door,  occasionally  causing  a  confusion  which 
scandalizes  every  thoughtful  mind.  Then  immediately  there  be¬ 
gins  the  chatter  of  the  congregational  magpies,  (and  almost 
every  congregation  has  one  or  more),  the  buzz  of  a  merely  pass¬ 
ing  conversation  on  any  topic,  the  criticism  of  the  sermon  or  the 
music,  even  when  it  is  not  the  veriest  gossip,  as  if  the  moments 
after  Divine  Service  were  a  social  function,  a  conversazione  or  an 
“afternoon  tea.” 

This  noisy,  helter-skelter  custom  not  only  mars  the  impres¬ 
siveness  of  the  closing  hymn,  which  is  often  the  climax  of  the 
service,  and  scatters  the  solemn,  beautiful  and  hopeful  thoughts 
which  would  naturally  steal  into  the  mind  with  the  weighty 
words  of  the  Apostolic  Benediction,  but  it  tends  to  dissipate 
much  of  the  impression  of  the  entire  service:  prayers,  lessons, 
hymns,  and  sermon.  I  never  witness  such  a  scene  without  think¬ 
ing  what  an  apt  sermon  might  be  preached  upon  the  following 
text :  “A  sower  went  out  to  sow  his  seed ;  and  as  he  sowed,  some 
fell  by  the  way  side;  and  it  was  trodden  down,  and  the  fowls 
of  the  air  devoured  it.”  f 

Embroidered  on  the  heavy  curtains  which  hang  at  the  en- 

*  Newman  Hall,  commenting  on  this  passage,  says  that  it  means,  “Not  the  minis¬ 
ter  alone,  or  the  choir,  but  ‘all  the  people,’  men,  women,  and  children ;  not  mentally 
merely,  but  audibly:  ‘Let  all  the  people  say  Amen.’  ”  Not  long  ago  I  read  (I  think 
it  was  in  the  British  Weekly)  that  suddenly  appreciating  the  knowledge  of  human 
nature  betrayed  in  this  ancient  advice,  Newman  Hall  determined  never  again  to  say 
“Amen”  at  the  end  of  his  public  prayers,  on  the  ground  that  it  was  the  people’s  part 
and  privilege  to  add  their  “Amen”  to  the  petitions  he  had  uttered  as  their  spokesman. 
Though  he  never  said  anything  to  them  on  the  subject,  his  congregation,  by  and  by. 
noting  the  omission  and  unconsciously  feeling  the  lack  of  some  word  from  them  with 
which  to  rivet  the  prayers,  began  themselves,  spontaneously,  to  supply  it ;  so  that,  in 
that  church  now  ministered  to  by  Dr.  F.  B.  Meyer,  the  whole  congregation,  every 
man,  woman  and  child  in  it.  heartily  participating,  sets  its  seal  to  the  prayers  with 
a  great  “Amen,”  so  making  them  in  a  new  sense  common  prayer. 


t  Given  our  restless,  hurrying  American  people  and  the  usual  succession  of  Sermon 
followed  by  Prayer,  Hymn  and  Benediction,  it  is  practically  impossible  to  guarantee 
a  thoroughly  quiet  close  of  the  service.  Standing  as  he  is  for  the  benediction,  it 
would  seem  unnatural  and  over  “pious”  to  the  average  American  to  remain  standing 


13 


trance  of  the  three  aisles  of  the  Princeton  University  Chapel, 
there  are  three  words  which  might  well  be  emblazoned  on  the 
walls  of  every  church.  They  describe  the  three  states  which 
should  cover  as  far  as  possible  the  entire  area  of  outward  de¬ 
meanor  or  inward  feeling  on  the  part  of  the  real  worshipper, 
from  the  time  he  crosses  the  vestibule  of  the  church  until  the 
very  end  of  the  service,  and  even  a  little  while  after  the  service. 
These  three  words  are:  SILENCE!  PRAYER !  PRAISE!— 
PRAISE!  PRAYER!  SILENCE!  And  that  silence  should 
not  be  too  quickly  broken,  nor  too  easily  nor  too  lightly,  save  for 
some  really  quiet,  thoughtful  word  and  some  genuinely  Chris¬ 
tian  greeting  to  the  stranger  within  our  gates. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  so  many  people  seek  to  break  the  force 


for  a  few  seconds  in  reverent  silence  after  the  benediction.  The  people,  hats  in  hand, 
are  on  their  feet  and  are  ready  to  go ;  why  not  go?  The  stranger  next  to  you,  on  the 
inside  of  the  pew,  is  evidently  waiting  impatiently  for  you  to  start ;  and  thus  the 
movement  toward  the  doors  inevitably  begins  immediately  after  the  “Amen.”  The 
seemly  custom  so  common  among  the  Scotch  and  English  Presbyterians,  and  to  some 
extent  among  the  Canadians,  of  resuming  their  seats  after  the  benediction  and  bow¬ 
ing  the  head  for  a  moment  of  silent  prayer,  could  Dever  be  introduced  generally  into 
this  country.  It  would  seem  too  artificial  and  unnatural  to  most  of  our  American 
congregations. 

The  canse  of  the  more  or  less  hasty  exit  lies  too  deep  for  pulpit  exhortation.  The 
only  effective  way  of  bringing  about  a  thoroughly  quiet  close  of  the  service  is  to  do  it 
indirectly,  by  changing  the  succession  of  the  closing  items  of  the  service  60  as  to 
tempt  the  people  to  a  more  leisurely  and  reverent  exit.  This  result  can  easily  be 
brought  about  by  the  following  order : 

Sermon. 

Brief  prayer,  growing  out  of  sermon.  (This  may  often  be  omitted). 

Hymn. 

Prayer  of  Dismissal  ?  The  congregation  seated ,  with  heads  reverently  bowed  (or 

The  Benediction  >  kneeling),  for  the  closing  prayer  and  benediction. 

The  change  in  the  habits  of  the  people  can  be  brought  about  quietly,  without  a 
word  ever  being  said  from  the  pulpit,  if  the  minister  will  privately  request  eight  or 
ten  pew-holders  in  the  front  part  of  the  church  to  resume  their  seats  after  the  hymn 
for  the  closing  prayer  and  the  benediction. 

Example  is  contagious,  and  so  soon  as  the  regular  attendants  become  accustomed 
to  this  method,  it  will  be  instantly  effective,  even  if  half  the  audience  are  strangers. 
The  plan  works  like  magic.  The  people  are  already  seated,  with  heads  reverently 
bowed  (or  they  are  kneeling),  and  no  one  next  to  you  is  impatiently  waiting  for  you 
to  start.  Under  such  circumstances  it  is  easy  and  natural  to  yield  to  the  temptation 
to  pause  fora  few  moments  for  a  brief  silent  after-prayer,  echoing  the  benediction, 
and  to  postpone  all  preparations  for  exit  until,  by  common  consent,  such  prayer 
seems  ended,  or  until  the  organist  quietly  begins  his  postlude.  A  wise  organist  can 
do  the  finishing  touch  to  the  effort  for  a  quiet  close  of  the  service  if  he  will  keep  his 
instrument  silent  for  a  few  seconds  after  the  benediction  is  ended,  and  even  then 
begin  with  a  few  soft  chords,  gradually  leading  up  to  any  postlude  he  may  play. 

Even  in  churches  where  there  has  never  been  any  scandalous  confusion  attending 
the  close  of  the  service,  the  order  and  method  suggested  will  bring  about  a  change 
that  will  surprise  even  those  who  have  never  been  seriously  disturbed  by  the  old 
methed.  The  deep  hush  which  falls  upon  all,  as  the  service  thus  closes  upon  the  key¬ 
note  of  silent  prayer,  makes  a  silence  that  can  be  felt,  and  that  will  be  most  welcome 
and  helpful. 


14 


of  such  suggestions  as  have  been  made  this  morning,  by  saying 
that,  after  all,  form  and  ceremony,  the  outward  mien,  are  of  no 
value  without  the  inner  spirit  of  reverence.  All  of  which  is  ever¬ 
lastingly  true ;  but  when  used  as  a  counter-statement  to  break  or 
even  to  impair  the  force  of  such  exhortations  to  greater  outward 
reverence  as  have  been  made  this  morning,  it  is  one  of  those  dan¬ 
gerous  half-truths  which  miss  the  point  at  issue  and  becloud  the 
judgment.  It  is  everlastingly  true  that  to  God’s  eye  the  “inward 
parts”  are  the  only  real  thing ;  but,  none  the  less,  will  the  individ¬ 
ual  worshipper  find  that  the  goodly  habit  of  outward  reverence  is 
in  itself  a  very  great  help  to  his  own  soul, — to  say  nothing  of  its 
value  as  an  example  to  others.  Of  course,  one  can  not  put  on 
reverence  as  you  would  a  coat,  from  the  outside;  but,  given  the 
sincere  and  willing  mind,  it  is  often  the  case  that  the  habitual 
outward  expression  of  reverence,  the  merely  reverent  manner, 
does  predispose  a  man  to  feel  inward  and  real  reverence:  or, 
rather  we  should  say  that  a  reverential  manner  quickens  the 
already  existing  spirit  of  reverence  and  is  thereby  a  means  of 
stimulating  it  to  a  greater  intensity. 

So,  we  must  not  be  too  hopeful  that  underneath  an  apparent 
carelessness  there  may  often  lurk,  or  will  very  long  remain  alive, 
a  latent  thoughtfulness.  We  are  creatures  with  bodies  as  well  as 
souls,  and  the  body  and  the  soul  are,  for  the  time  being,  so  inex¬ 
tricably  woven  together  in  an  interdependent  partnership  that 
their  reflex  action  upon  each  other  is  as  tremendous  as  it  is  sub¬ 
tle.  We  may  assert,  as  a  pyschological  fact,  that  outward  irrev¬ 
erence  easily  and  surely  undermines  the  genuine  inner  reverence ; 
while  real  reverence  deepens  and  increases  itself  every  time  it  sin¬ 
cerely  comes  to  self-expression  in  a  visible  manner. 

Let  me  emphasize  what  I  have  been  trying  to  say  this 
morning  as  to  the  relation  of  the  outward  form  of  expres¬ 
sion  to  the  inner  thought,  by  means  of  an  illustration  drawn 
from  civic  matters.  Suppose  that  next  Tuesday  were  the 
high  and  holy  day  of  election,  and  that,  without  reference  to 
the  question  as  to  whom  you  might  decide  to  vote  for,  I  had 
been  urging  you  simply  to  make  sure  that  you  vote  soberly 
and  in  the  fear  of  God,  to  be  sure  that  you  make  your  in¬ 
dividual  decision, — not  through  personal  or  party  prejudices,  not 
to  serve  your  own  ends  nor  the  ulterior  purposes  of  any  man  oi 
set  of  men, — but  solely  and  simply  for  whatever  you  believed  to 


15 


be  the  best  interests  of  the  common  weal.  Suppose  I  had  been 
reminding  you  that  the  small  polling  booth,  into  which  a  free¬ 
man  retires  for  the  preparation  of  his  ballot,  was  a  veritable  holy 
of  holies  in  civic  affairs;  that  the  ballot  box  itself  is  the  high 
altar  of  liberty;  that  the  actual  casting  of  the  ballot  ought  to  be 
a  real  civic  sacrament,  wherein,  through  the  sovereign,  unbought 
choice  of  freeman,  we  renew  our  oath  of  allegiance  to  the 
Fatherland — an  act  so  sacred  that  it  always  seems  to  me  that  the 
thoughtful  citizen  might  well  uncover  his  head  as  he  casts  his 
vote ;  so  sacred  that,  a  man,  if  called  upon  to  do  so,  ought  to  be 
able  the  next  moment  solemnly  to  lay  his  hand  upon  his  heart 
and  say :  “I  have  done  my  best  for  the  better  government  of  the 
city  wherein  I  live  and  for  the  country  of  which  it  forms  a  part 
— so  help  me  God !”  Now,  when  I  had  finished  speaking  in  some 
such  earnest  strain  to  you  as  Christian  patriots,  suppose  that 
suddenly  unseen  hands  should  fling  out  before  your  eyes  the 
glorious  star-gemmed  banner  of  the  Republic, — think  you  that 
you  would  have  to  wait  for  me  or  any  one  else  to  remind  you  to 
rise  at  the  sudden  sight  of  our  national  flag  ?  I  think  not.  And 
suppose  that,  yielding  to  a  common  impulse  at  the  sudden  un¬ 
furling  of  the  glorious  symbol  of  the  Republic,  you  should  all 
rise  and  stand  in  its  presence,  with  uncovered  heads,  can  you  con¬ 
ceive  of  a  single  man  here  so  insensible  to  the  common  proprie¬ 
ties  of  life,  as  stolidly  to  sit  in  his  pew,  a  huge,  “hunkering”  hulk 
of  irreverence,  utterly  indifferent,  apparently,  to  the  flag  of  his 
country  ? 

And  if  such  an  anomaly  were  possible,  could  such  a  man  save 
himself  from  the  suspicion  that  he  was  lacking  in  a  certain  valu¬ 
able  element  of  patriotism  by  insisting  that  his  “patriotism  was 
a  spiritual,  inner  homage  to  his  country,  and  not  an  act  of  mere 
outward  formalism  ?”  In  such  a  case,  every  clear-thinking  man 
would  agree  with  the  reply,  that  there  was  a  fitness  in  some 
things;  that  all  great  inward  emotions  should  have  some  corre¬ 
sponding  and  congruous  outward  expression;  and  that  what  we 
had  been  doing  was  not  to  salute  a  bit  of  red,  white,  and  blue 
bunting,  nor  had  we  done  it  as  a  mere  outward  ceremony,  but 
that,  as  we  had  thus  suddenly  beheld  the  banner  of  our  common 
country,  there  was  sounded  again  in  our  ears  the  name  of 
America,  that  name  of  our  common  country  “which  stirs  the 
heart  like  a  trumpet,  calling  out  all  that  which  is  best  within 


16 


us ;”  and  that  that  beautiful  flag  represented  to  us  “the  radiant 
image  of  something  better  and  more  enduring  than  we  are,  which 
shall  fulfill  our  thwarted  individual  aspirations  when  we  are  but 
a  handful  of  forgotten  dust  in  a  soil  trodden  by  a  race  of  men 
which  we  shall  have  helped  to  make  more  worthy  of  our  inherit¬ 
ance  than  we  ourselves  had  power  to  be.” — (Lowell.) 

And  if,  on  all  fitting  occasions,  by  our  very  outward  attitude 
toward  a  mere  flag,  we  express  the  love  and  devotion  we  feel  for 
our  country,  surely  there  should  be  something  akin  to  it  in  mat¬ 
ters  religious,  and  especially  when  those  simple  yet  weighty 
words  fall  upon  our  ears:  “Let  Us  Pray/’’  Too  often  by  their 
outward  actions,  if  not  their  inward  thought,  the  average  con¬ 
gregation  unconsciously  changes  that  exhortation  into:  “Let 
me  pray” — as  if  their  minister  were  going  to  do  all  the  praying, 
in  thought  as  well  as  voice,  while  they  sat  to  one  side  listening  to 
him  as  indifferent  and  uninterested  eavesdroppers.  Let  me  un¬ 
derscore  each  word :  “Let  us  pray” — that  means  you,  and  you, 
and  you,  and  all  of  us.  All  public  prayer  in  church  should  be 
common  worship,  common  prayer.  Therefore,  my  fellow  be¬ 
lievers  in  the  Unseen  and  Eternal,  whenever  we  hear  the  time¬ 
worn,  yet  ever  solemn  call  to  prayer,  let  us,  in  a  wise  fear  of  our 
wandering  thoughts,  make  a  conscious  effort  to  shut  out  the 
things  of  time  and  sense,  and  with  the  help  of  some  one  of  the 
natural  and  fitting  attitudes  of  prayer  express  our  inward  devo¬ 
tion,  and  by  expressing  intensify  it.  It  is  not  of  vital  importance 
which  one  of  those  natural  attitudes  you  adopt,  whether  you 
stand,  or  reverently  bend  the  whole  body,  or  kneel ;  but,  when  we 
strive  to  come,  as  in  true  prayer  we  may  come,  into  the  very 
audience  chamber  of  the  Most  High,  let  the  body,  in  some  fit¬ 
ting,  spontaneous  and  helpful  way,  express  the  inner  and  ador¬ 
ing  homage  of  the  soul.  And,  when  we  are  met  together 
for  the  worship  of  Almighty  God  and,  in  the  familiar  yet  hal¬ 
lowed  words,  “Let  us  pray,”  we  hear  the  summons  of  the  ancient 
canticle,  “Lift  up  your  hearts,”  let  us  answer,  “We  lift  them  up 
unto  Thee,”  or  repeat  the  still  more  ancient  prayer,  “Hear  Thou 
in  heaven,  Thy  dwelling-place,  and  when  Thou  hearest,  Lord, 
forgive.” 


